Hello Cruel World!
by TheIncredibleDancingBetty
Summary: Raph wakes up in a snowy field amidst burning rubble without a clue who he is. Where is he? Where is his family? Can he find them in time? What about those soldiers hunting him down? Can he escape? Read to find out! Raph POV/centric Rated for violence and language
1. Waking Up

I don't own the TMNT

YES! I KNOW! Yet another amnesia story, right? Well, hopefully this will be different enough to whet your appetite for a good Raph story! And hopefully I can deliver such a thing LOL

This IS a rewrite! I had written 14 chapters originally, then stuff happened in real life and I had to take a hiatus. So I reread what I wrote and while I couldn't remember exactly what I was planning for it before, I decided on a slightly different plot line than would fit everything I had originally written, plus I found some continuity errors that was bugging me. So, needless to say, the first 14 chapters will come at a fairly regular pace since most of the chapter is remaining intact except for me tweaking or rewriting certain parts or segments. I still have the original version on my Stealthy Stories account (if you're not a member yet, I highly suggest it! A forum purely for TMNT fans). But don't look to it for spoilers as, for one thing, you'll spoil certain parts AND remember that I am redirecting the plot!

This is in Raph POV, in my mind he does curse, so please limit complaints on cursing.

I'd like to thank TmntRr for both motivating me to finish one of my Raph stories and with helping me hash out forgotten details for the plot of this one.

Enjoy!

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllll

Chapter 1

Waking Up

I slowly drifted in and out of consciousness before fully becoming awake. At first i didn't move at all, I just lay there, shivering, my eyes closed and teeth clenched. I felt numb, somehow. Everywhere. Painfully numb, bad enough that my muscles were clenched hard. Why would I feel numb? Yet at the same time, hot in a way as well. Fiery heat seemed to dance on my skin. Searing. Numb and hot? Why was I numb? I was cold, that's why. Wait, cold and hot? Somehow this makes no sense. My mind moved slowly, muddled. It was as if I was trying to swim through syrup. I try to move. My limbs feel like lead, yet so stiff and tense that my muscles ached. I try anyway. It's about then that I realize something else: I hurt. A lot.

Baring my teeth I stiffle a cry and slowly turn my head into the snow, muffling the sound that escaped. Wait, the snow?

It was then that I opened my eyes. They seemed to resist my attempts, having the same leaden heaviness as my body, grating against my eyeballs as if there was a layer of sand in between. But somehow I get them to obey. My head, too is extroadinarily heavy. I struggle to lift it up and manage to prop it up on my chin to look around, my elbows propped up in deep, wet snow, my gasping breath forming a cloud in the freezing air.

The deep darkness of night surrounds me. I see trees. A lot of so thick, I can't see anything else but the trunks of more trees. Stars twinkle in the night sky behind them. Light, bright, orange light. It's reflecting off the tree trunks, illuminating everything, moving, dancing. What is that light? Is there someone behind me? Is that how they move? How does it move like that? I can tell that the light is what is causing the burning heat to dance across my skin.

Once again I try to move my limbs. They cooperate more this time. I realize that part of the problem is that I can't feel my fingers, or my toes. Or most of my hands and feet for that matter. How long was I out here? I slowly, agonizingly pull myself into a sitting position and try to massage my palms. My fingers don't want to cooperate. I can't even tell what they're doing or what I'm touching unless I look down to wonder I'm cold. I'm not wearing anything. I'm lying in the snow wearing nothing but a belt and a bandana. What's wrong with me? My limbs ache, as soon as I start moving a deep, racking shiver starts to form in my muscles. They twitch as though with a mind of their own, possessed. Teeth suddenly rattling hard enough to break, I look around.

My mind is fuzzy. Very fuzzy. And cloudy. Is that the same thing or different?

The dancing lights against the tree trunks attract my attention again. Oh, yes. That's why I got up. Damn, think, brain, think! I half-drag, half move myself over until I'm completely turned around. My legs still aren't cooperating much either. Neither are my arms. They are both weak and tense, made of jelly yet shivering violently. I realize that I can't feel as much as I originally thought. Then a previous question resurfaces. How long have I been here?

I think hard. But try as I might, the only thing I can remember was waking up minutes ago. The fog in my brain is so thick...I shake my head. Suddenly it hurts and I massage my forehead. My fingers tingle with numb pain. Sleep. I just want to go to sleep. I'm so cold...something in my mind kicks me. telling me that would be a bad idea. Deadly. Can't stop moving. Can't sleep. I need to get warm.

Something reaches through the fog in my mind. The fire. I must get to the fire.

It is slow going. My limbs only move in little spurts, they're stiff, mechanical. Each movement seems to send shards of pain through my body as my muscles re-awaken. My broad, bare feet shovel through the thick snow, each time burrowing deeper. But I keep on going.

There's no one else here, only fire. I look at the flames. Dancing tongues of flame. So that's what made the light move. They are engulfing a large craft. Squinting my eyes, I look at it closer. Something big, big as a whale airplane? Yes, that's 's one hell of an airplane, it's friggin huge. Like a jetliner or something. Something that hundreds of people sit on. I can't see any more details about it, it is nearly eaten alive by flames. Both wings have already snapped like fragile twigs and are lying on the ground with nothing showing but the brittle bones of it. Most of the body is either stripped of it's metal skin, revealing the shining steel ribs or is too covered with flame for me to make out.

Then I realize that this isn't all of the plane. It's only the front part. Where's the rest? Without moving from my search I look around. Behind the plane is an open field. In fact, it's a big field, and I'm in it. I'm only about ten feet from the lines of woods, but past the field the woods are everywhere and thick. Real thick. It's there I see the tail. About two or three football field lengths down the field. The three things poking out at the end are all collapsed on the ground, making more flame. I can hardly make out the toothpick-like skeleton.

It was then that I notice that there is more plane broken off, all around me. Debris varying from the size of a quarter to a hot tub are lying scattered all around me. All over the field. There's some thin trails of smoke rising from spots in the forest. Did it make it there too?

Then the tingling hit. The hot, stinging tingle all over me. My arms, my legs, my muscles burn and itch at the same time. What's happening? I look at the snow around me, as though it will reveal some sort of answer, slowly turning around even as I slowly move forward. But all I find behind me is blood. Blood? Is that my blood? Slowly I look over myself. I'm kinda cut up all over, but it's not too bad. I look at the snow again. My shape is perfectly imprinted in the soft white surface. Man. There sure is a lot of blood there. A whole frozen pool of it. What was there?

I realize it was my head. My head was there. Slowly I bring up my heavy leaden hand and feel my head. But I can't feel anything, my fingers are numb. I think that my head is numb too, not sure. I'm starting to get cold. A shiver racks through me. Damn this tingling!

Heat. I need heat. Fire has heat. Duh. I'll use the fire. That's where I was heading in the first place, right? Dammit! What's wrong with me!

I look around. The plane is pretty far away, or at least by my current standards. It's a whole fifty to a hundred feet. I still can't get my legs to move like I want them to so I look for a closer source. About five yards from me is some burning debris. I can't make out what it was, maybe chairs or boxes or something. But it's big enough to keep an orgy of beer drinkers happy so I guess it's good enough for me. Slowly, I drag myself through the snow towards it.

How did I get here? I was probably on the plane. Or at least that's what I WANTED to think. Better than the thought of so many people, flesh burned away, flames licking their charred skeletons...I shook my head again. Don't think about that.

So it crashed? Am I the only person alive? Where am I? Where was I? Where did this plane start out? Why was I on it? These questions plague my mind, but I don't know how to answer them. My mind is so cloudy.

Why wasn't I wearing anything? Somehow I felt I should, though I had the distinct feeling that wearing clothing was uncomfortable for me. Not sure why exactly. Because of me? Hmmm...

I reach the debris and warm myself against the flames. I accidently get too close and burn my finger. I can feel that, though it feels like a dull ache. I know it should be sharper. I look at it wisp smoke for a brief second before I stick my finger in the snow.

The smoke stinks. The flames stink. It smells like a mixture of gasoline and bad hamburger. Funny combination. Smells bad though. Why does it smell like that?

My mind starts to drift. For a long while I just sit there, maneuvering myself around the fire. The feeling in my flesh starts to come back quicker than I thought. Then again, how long was I warming myself against the fire? Not to sure. One minute? One hour? Damn, why can't I fucking think!

The pins and needles tingling is now everywhere. Apparently my hands and feet enjoyed being numb and are protesting the feeling coming back with an immense, throbbing pain. It is an awful pain, one coming from the inside like shards of needles burrowing to my skin from my bones. Each time I move it gets so much worse, so I stand there stiff as a board, trying not to move. I squint my eyes shut and grit my teeth so hard I'm surprised they don't crack. I look at the offending limbs. They are still the same size. But they feel ten times that! Fucking dammit!

Without warning a ribbon of profanity runs from my mouth. In fury and frustration I heave myself shakily to my feet (at least my legs are cooperating somewhat now) and stomp. I stomp my feet in the snow, thrash my hands in the air and growl out the words through gritted teeth. I probably look like a tribal dancer but I don't give a shit. This crap hurts!

I plop myself hard in the snow and glare at my hands. I'm tempted to just stick them in the fire but wiser forces tell me that's not such a good idea. Huh. Those wiser forces can suck my-

A noise attracts my attention. I whip my head around to see what it is and immediately regret it. Suddenly my world is spinning with such a ferocity that I feel my stomach churn, threatening to expel my last meal. With shaking hands I grab my head, as though I can steady the spinning world by this simple act alone. The world continues to pass in a radical blur, but is it slowing down?It seems to help anyway.

Wait. My fingers move around. My head. My fingers scan my head, gentle and probing despite the remnants of pain still throbbing through the tissue across the plane of my skull. They touch an area on my head and immediately my hand flinches back from the sudden intense pain of it. I look at my fingers. There's some blood and some other kind of clear fluid. My head is now constantly throbbing so hard I'm surprised my head isn't swaying with it. Frustrated, I look towards the sky. Why does everything have to be about pain right now!

With my other hand I gently feel the area around on my head. It's swollen and tender. Judging by how it feels, I must have a hefty knot on my noggin.

Then it hits me. My? Me? I...who am I? Why the fuck didn't I ask myself this before! I concentrate hard, trying to remember something. Anything. My mind draws a blank. I can't even think of a simple name. I feel the bandana encircling my head, it's red. The belt around my waist has two weapons they look like hand held pitchforks. I pick them up. They feel so right in my hands. Like they're an extension of my arm itself. Sai. That's what they're called. Sai.

I flip one in the air and automatically my other hand reaches out and deftly catches it. I wasn't even aware I was doing that. Why would I have these? Maybe I'm some sort of fighter. An assassin? No, that doesn't feel right. Maybe just a hobbyist.

There's also a little machine on my belt. It looks like the shell of a turtle. Well I know that, that I'm a turtle, that much is obvious. I know that I'm not supposed to be seen by humans. It's almost like this lesson had been drilled into me since infancy or something. Why is it so important that I not be seen? Because I'm different. Too different. That's right, I think.

The device suddenly makes a whirring noise. In surprise I drop it in the snow. Curiously I look at it. As I bend down to pick it up it sparks a little bit. What is this for? I heft the thing in my hand. Did I make this? Somehow I have a feeling I didn't. Who did then? Maybe I bought it...

Then it suddenly opens into smething else. There are buttons and a small screen ths screen is cracked and there's stuff sticking out of it. I look at the buttons. Then it hits me. A phone! Duh! Idiot. I push one of the buttons, having no idea what I'm really doing. It complains loudly and vibrates a little. I drop it for a second time. With a tiny puff of smoke, it dies in front of me. I glare at the thing. I'm in the middle of nowhere, have no idea who I am, where I am or how I got here and my one chance to contact others dies right in front of me. Great! Just great! The ole' turtle luck working true to form.

I snicker at that. Somehow it sounds so right.

I hear the noise again, though much closer this time. My muscles tense. Although they complain from their stiffness and cold, they obey. How long has that noise been going on? Have I been so preoccupied that I missed some of it? Idiot!

Wisely learning a lesson from the last time, I slowly turn around. I see nothing but trees through the flickering flame. Stupid trees. Purposely blocking my view. The noise comes again. It sounds like someone stepping on a twig or something, perhaps brushing by the leaves. What is it?

Then the sound comes from behind me. I turn around. On the other side of the bonfire, a man is standing there, glaring at me. My first instinct is to run and hide, but I know that if I stand or move to quickly my spinning head will send me reeling to the ground again. There's no point to that. I try to smile and wave my hand. "H-hello."

His eyes narrow and then he answers by bringing a semi-automatic military rifle to his shoulder. The barrel is pointed at me and his finger moves over the trigger.

Aw shit.

The noise comes again from behind me, but I don't dare take my eyes off the man pointing the gun at me. I know what the ones behind me are anyway. Hoarse shouts ring out in the air. Shit it sounds like a lot of them. I can't recognize the language. I hear the click, lots of them. You know what I'm talking about. The cock going up, the weapons coming at ready. I've heard them lots of times in movies, I think.

More men come into my line of vision, all of them carrying the same type of wicked looking rifle. I can see now that they are dressed in some sort of camouflage uniform. Some type of beret cap or something adorns their heads. Their skin looks dark, then again it's night what do I know? They all have identical gloves and high lace boots. Grenades, communication devices, and knives big enough to castrate an elephant hang from their belts. These are military men.

What did I do to deserve this?

I move my arm and immediately all the men swerve towards me and tighten their fingers on the trigger simultaneously, like a sick kind of ballet. I freeze. No use if I'm swiss cheese. They start speaking to each other hoarsely in that language, all without taking their eyes off of me. I look from one to the other without moving my head. Damn I wish I know what they are saying. Especially since I know that my fate and livelihood is being discussed here.

Apparently they came to an agreement. The one that I could only guess to be the leader nods. One of the soldiers to my right moves towards my. Instinctively I turn my head towards him...

Just in time to see him bring the butt of his rifle colliding with my skull. A brief flash of pain and everything goes black.

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllll

I really hope that you like this. I know that it raises a lot of questions, but they'll be answered slowly but surely. Just have patience!

Leave me a review and let me know ALL your thoughts, feelings, predictions, and anything else you might have!


	2. Awake (again)

I don't own the TMNT

Special thanks to TmntRr for lighting my butt on fire for this thing.

Chapter 2

Awake (sigh) Again

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllll

My mind was fuzzy getting back on its feet. The first thing that I notice is that my head hurts like I don't even know what. I can feel the throbbing of the first bump I got, probably from the plane; now it's joined by its little friend gun-butt-to-head wound! Geesh, what's with the blows to the head and shit?

Wincing, my head clears out the spider webs though my eyes remain closed. One step at a time. Immediately I notice that something isn't right. For one thing, I'm not touching the ground. My hands are throbbing and pulsating with a sharp, yet numbing pain. It feels as though my hands are twice the size they are. I can feel something binding them sharply together at the wrists and something similar on my feet although it has more slack. The groaning creak of metal straining against metal as well as the clinking of them rubbing against one another are the only sounds other than my labored breathing I somehow manage to pry open my eyes. Shackles around my wrists chaining me to the ceiling. Just like I thought.

The lighting isn't great, it's very dim, illuminated by a single, naked dying bulb in the ceiling. It is still enough light to make out most things clearly enough though. I look up. Even though that slight movement sends my world reeling, I can still see it clearly enough to make it out. The shackles are on pretty tight, my hands look a tad bit more purple than I think that they should be. Though my hands simply pulsate with pain the part where the shackle dug into the more fragile skin on my wrist burned with an intense fury, which flared worse each time I moved. My body weight hanging against them probably doesn't help much either. The chain connected to them can't be more than two feet long, maybe one and a half. It's connected to a bolt imbedded in a hefty looking slab of stone in the ceiling.

Blinking my vision begins to clear a little bit. Something trickles down my face. Sticking my tongue against my cheek, I taste it. Blood. Hell, they really must've done a number on me! I finally decide to take a look around. Great. The classic image of a dungeon/torture chamber. Perfect. Just friggin perfect.

Yeah, perfect hollywood image. Imagine the typical dirty stone that makes up walls, ceiling and floor. A classic sewer stench of people not given toilets or showers is so pugent in the air that I can taste it. No, you don't want to know what it tastes like. Numerous chain and shackle combinations of various sizes are connected to the ceiling, walls and floor. There's even a particularly interesting looking one with small spikes on the inside. Hm. Kinky. There are more standard types of shackles and chains lining the wall on rusted hooks. Unfortunately they are lacking the all-important moldy skeleton still left shackled up against the wall. These people know nothing on setting a mood.

Twitching my toes I try to swivel them to get a better look around, at the same time testing the shackles on my ankles. At least they didn't bind them together like they did my wrists. Instead they are individually shackled and placed about two to three feet apart, each leg chained to a different stone. Just wide enough to make it slightly uncomfortable. Funny position though, eh? A proctologist's dream.

Using the position of my feet I still manage to swivel my direction slightly. The rest doesn't look much different. There's an iron door. No little window with bars though. Puh. Pathetic. More chains, more moldy stone, more...eh? What's this? It appears that I'm not alone.

In the corner tucked by a closed cell is a man, a white man. A naked white man. Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. His hands appear to be tied behind him onto the thick wooden chair that he's on. His ankles are tied to the outer legs, keeping them apart. His skin, once you look past the dirt and grime, looks worse for wear. Cuts, bruises, burns,... aw hell you name it and he probably has it. Don't really want to get into too much detail. He's obviously been through quite a bit of torture, judging at least from his condition and the, uh, nasty looking instruments scattered around him. Every surface of his body appears to have been, um, used for some sort of torture. Yes, and when I said he was naked I meant every part. I can't see his back or his hands, but I assume that they've been, eh, drawn upon as well. Can't see his face either. The dude's passed out cold, so friggin' relaxed that I can see his shoulders coming out of their sockets slightly. He doesn't seem to have been out of that chair any time soon, considering the stains on the seat he's used it as a toilet as well a few times. He has a head of scruffy, dirty close cropped brown hair. His muscle tone looks good, and looks like it could be a hell of a lot better if he'd eat something. At least he's breathing.

For the first time a fear hits me in the chest. I peeked another look at the man. How much pain did he have to endure? I don't feel like a weakling, and something tells me that I'm anything but... It's just that when you know what's coming, and that you can't do anything then what do you do? What can you do?

Wait. I think that that's the question that I should be asking myself. What can I do?

I look around again, this time my gaze is probing. I don't see anything that could be of immediate use to me. Couldn't reach it anyway. Hmm. Looking up, I inspect the shackles holding my wrists one more time. Hell everything looks dingy here, how am I supposed to tell if it's corroded or not? I tried to move my fingers but all that I got was a slight twitch. Maybe the blood circulation has been cut off too long. Can't feel my hands anyway. Try something else. Maybe the bolt in the ceiling or something is loose. Place looks pretty crappy, after all. Yet the only way I could think to test it was to jerk on them. Shit. But it obviously must be done. Putting some purposeful weight on my wrists I lift myself up as high as my leg shackles will let me, wriggling my toes to fight the mounting pain as more pressure is put upon my sorely abused wrists. I doubt if it's even two inches. Biting my tongue to hide the sudden, intense hurt that I know is coming, I drop my weight against the wrist shackles and at the same time thrust downward as much as my ankles will let me.

Yes I was expecting the pain, but that sure as hell didn't make it any easier. I bite down so hard I tasted blood. The searing pain is so strong in my wrists that it radiates down my arms like something possessed, reverberating through my body hard enough to make me gasp. Slight tears form in my eyes, they seemed to burn through my skin. Finally I let my breath out. It comes in shallow, shuddering gasps. An odd sensation plays on the skin of my arms and I look up to see small trickles of blood running slowly down my arm from my wrists. I don't know how long I've been here, but I've obviously been here long enough for those shackles to get nice and comfy into my flesh. Even worse, I didn't feel anything give, anything budge...hell I didn't even hear a creak. The stone the chain is bolted to didn't move and the bolt itself seemed solid. No dice in that direction.

The next to try out was the shackles on my legs. At least it looked like they would be less painful. By looking at them I knew that there was no way in hell I could slip out of them, my ankles were too damn big. Trying the right one first, I jerked at it gently, ignoring the fiery protests from my wrists. The bolt that was connecting the thing to the floor shifted. Dust moved and settled as it stopped, barely noticeable in normal circumstances but in this situation I was elated.. Delight stole my pain away as I grinned at the sight. Eagerly I tried the other with the same result. It might not seem like much to you, but to a turtle in this type of situation anything is cause for celebration.

I tested them again. Unfortunately they didn't seem like they would come out with my gentle tugging, but they definitely had the potential to. Probably takes a big, sharp tug. Biting my lip I looked up at my wrists. Shit. With a tug like that, for all I know I could completely de-glove the skin on my hands. Yet considering the situation, was I willing...

My concentration was broken by a low, trailing moan.

Immediately I swiveled to look at the man in the chair. His head bobbed slightly as he started to wake up, hair still shrouding his face. I stared at him for a second, was he out again? He didn't move. I licked my lips. "Hey, hey dude! You all right over there? Where are we?"

The man's head froze at the sound of my voice and he brought his head up. Despite how bloodshot his eyes were, I could see that they were green. His face was almost one big bruise and his nose looked like it had been broken at least once, thought to be honest I couldn't tell if it was recent or not. Other than that he was a decent looking guy, I guess. Not grossly deformed or nothing.

It took him a moment to focus his eyes on everything. When they did focus on me, they widened in astonishment. Somehow I expected this, being a five foot talking turtle and all. I waited patiently. Not like, in my position, I could do anything else anyway. Face still the picture of astonishment, his mouth worked but at first nothing came out. His lips were so dry and cracked I was surprised that he had any moisture left in him. A tongue that looked as dry as his lips licked them as though it provided moisture and he swallowed hard. Still looking at me in surprise he said one word that I wasn't expecting...

"YOU!"

Somewhat taken by surprise I looked around as though I expected him to be talking to someone else. His dry cracked teeth formed into somewhat of a snarl and he strained against the ropes binding his hands as he repeated: "You! You! You! Damnit to fuckin hell it's YOU!"

I honestly had no immediate idea of how to react. Again, last thing I was expecting. But he was seriously starting to piss me off. Growling at him, I snarled "Yes, it's fucking me, what do you want to fucking' do about it! Little bitch! Who are you to talk to me like that!" Then again, who am I? Damn this guy was pissing me off!

He jerked so hard on his chair that the heavy thing lifted on its legs a little. It must've been painful but he showed no sign of it. "I've been looking for you!" He called out hoarsly.

What's with this guy? He's gotta be delusional. But then again, he was looking for me…does he know who I am? My anger started to ease down a little, though it was still hot. "Who am I for you to be looking for? Why the hell you looking for me!"

A sneer etched his features. "Like you don't know!" This long sentence seemed to be too much for his poor dried throat to manage and he erupted into a spasm of dry coughing fits that sounded a bit like dry heaving. I almost had sympathy for the turd before he turned to me and muttered "Well, fuck you."

Damn this little asswipe! "Huh? What's that? Fuck me? Well fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"FUCK YOU!"

I have no idea how long that this would've gone on, and to be honest it was getting kinda funny in an arcane sort of way. We were interrupted, however, by the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the door. Immediately the man in the corner slumped once more, apparently pretending to be unconscious. Probably didn't want to attract attention. He _was_ in a position to do that. Huh. Lucky him.

I however had nowhere to hide as the door swiveled open. A man with dark tan looking skin and a classic Zorro moustache shuffled himself through the door, complaining loudly at the two that came with him. They were speaking that gibberish language again. They were dressed in the same type of gear that they were when I was abducted from the plane crash. Now that they were closer I saw that their camouflage actually looked very warm. The jacket was padded thickly and the pants puffed out with more than just empty air and some snow chased them, clinging to their heavy boots, as they scrambled through the door, but other than their breath clouding the air they showed no sign of being cold.

For me it was a different matter entirely. The very millisecond that the wind touched my skin it pickled and tightened into huge goose bumps. I repressed the urge to shiver despite that my teeth were chattering. I didn't want them to use the cold as a form of torture, if that's what they planned to do right now anyway.

A fourth man popped through the door to lean in. He looked different from the other three. I guessed that he wasn't part of their party. The other three immediately fell said something to them in that same language, though it sounded markedly different, maybe it had a heavy accent or something. Who the hell knows (or cares?).

He slipped back through the door and slammed it shut behind him. The first man, the one who had been doing all of the talking, smiled at me as he slipped off his gloves. I honestly didn't notice what the other two were doing at the time because that smile unnerved me. I remembered all the pretty instruments littered at my naked 'friend's' feet and call me crazy but I really didn't want them used on me. Yeah. I'm just plain nuts.

He continued to smile at me as he slowly approached closer. Without taking his eyes off mine he reached behind him and pulled out a wicked looking knife, that elephant cutting one I mentioned earlier. He stroked the blade lovingly.

Finally reaching me after having taken his dear sweet time, he looked up at me. "Well, well, well...what do we have here?" He said this in English. It was actually quite well spoken but his accent was still heavy. I recognized it from somewhere. TV maybe?

Brandishing the knife, he slowly danced the precision blade across my skin, using a caressing motion. He started on my arm, tracing the cold metal along my underarm, over my shoulder, around my collarbone and finally it came to rest on my throat. I could feel my blood pulsing against the blade. I was at a loss for words.

"Now, you have evaded us long enough. As you can so plainly tell, we have caught you. You will tell us exactly what we want to know or my little friend..." he put pressure on the blade. It barely cut through the surface layer of my skin, I could feel a tiny trickle of blood. "Or my little friend and you will be forced to get... let's just say... better acquainted."

How do I get myself into this shit!

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

How do you like it? Any likes? Comments? Predictions? Did I raise enough questions for you? Let me know! I love to hear it!

Let me selfishly toot my own horn and say that if you like this you might like my others: a Don POV Light Purple Dark horror, a TMNT/zombie fic Death Rising Among us, and a Splinter POV oneshot series A Day in the Life of a Single Father family/comfort


	3. Interrogation

I don't own the TMNT

Special thanks to TmntRr for lighting my butt on fire for this thing.

Chapter 3

Interrogation

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllll

I looked at the man for a moment as he smiled at me. Who the hell did he think I was! Information...what information? What could I possibly tell him? I opened my mouth to ask just that, unfortunately it didn't come out quite right: "What the fuck are you talking about?"

His jaw clenched slightly. I saw a vein pop out of his forehead and pulse at me. "You just made a grave mistake my green little friend." With that he turned to the two men standing beside him and said something in their jibber-jabber foreign talk. They produced a type of small whip for him. Now I don't claim to be an expert on whips or nuthin, but it sure did look like the ones you see on the movies. For one thing, it had more than one tip to it, it had about three long tips about the length of my arm. Secondly, at the end of these tips it had these little metal prongs. Didn't look too welcoming, I'll tell you that much.

One of the men went behind me with the thing, out of my sight. I didn't like the look of that. Both the other men, including Zorro, didn't seem too happy with me at the moment. At the same time they had a smug look on their faces. I really didn't like the look of that. "Just a little lesson of what will come if you continue to refuse cooperation, my patience is thin today." I growled, my blood pulsing. Damn them to hell!

I felt the air hit me before I felt anything else. It's kinda like feeling the wind of a passing bullet (now where did I ever experience that?) but the only thing is that the bullet doesn't hit you. Well not this time. The tails of the whip wrapped themselves around my inner thigh, curled around until the metal prongs at the end stuck themselves into the meat on my outer thigh. Immediately the guy jerked back at the thing, and the whip was ripped away. The prongs took a bit of flesh with them.

At first I was completely silent with the sheer shock of the blow and I just stared at the man in front of me, mouth slightly agape. He grinned wider and leaned until his face was inches from my nose, I could smell his breath. It was about then that the sheer intensity of pain laced through me like a lethal poison. It bit into me hard, the skin where the prongs had touched seemed to be on fire. My muscles jerked and my back arched as far as my shell would allow. Refusing to cry out, my jaw clenched tight enough that my teeth groaned. My eyes blazed and my mouth frothed. But the mere second that went by only seemed to elevate the pain as hot blood trickled swiftly down my leg. It was too much. With a roar of pure anger and pain I swung my head forward and right into the nose of my interrogator.

He reeled back with a strangled 'ack!' and the other man rushed to help him. Such a rage filled me that I frothed like a thing possessed, roaring curses at my captors. I heaved, strained, bucked, wriggled and jerked. The man behind me gave a small cry of panic or surprise. Then apparently he could think of nothing else to do but continue pummeling me with that infernal whip. It wrapped itself around my calves, my arm, everywhere that the shell didn't block. I felt each blow, but not like the first one. It's like this anger brought on such an adrenaline surge that I felt that I could do anything. So I roared my superhuman abilities out for all the world to hear.

The man I bashed in the nose heaved himself to his feet, yelling at the man whipping me from behind. Abruptly he stopped. Stepping in front of me once more (but this time at a safer distance) he glared at me with hate filled eyes. I must've done a number on his nose, all I could see was the blood. There was no more point left to it, it looked more squishy and pulpy than anything else. The blood was trickling heavily down his face.

He backhanded me with an outstretched palm. I responded by snarling and snapping my teeth, narrowly missing his pinky finger with my canines. He slapped me again so hard that my teeth clicked together. My head spun at the blow, begging me to go limp but I couldn't allow it. I was too royally pissed off. Glaring right back at him I spat in his face.

Apparently this was the last straw for him, and not a very wise move on my part. Without taking his eyes off me he shouted something to his associate, who handed him a piece of thick pipe. Before another breath could be spent he swung the thing at my torso with all his might.

The metal hit me like a train wreck, and knocked all the breath clean out of me. I never had a chance to regain that breath before, in one fluid motion, he targeted my other side and hit it with a solid thwump! I swung slightly on the chains like the helpless thing that I was, reeling from the blows, before he shoved the blunt end right into my chest. I swear I could feel my sternum creak in protest. In my mouth I could taste blood.

It wasn't like the blows from the whip. That was more of a stinging, burning, tearing sensation. This was hard enough and made enough impact that I didn't recover right away. It's like it instantly set all of the bones in my body to vibrate. I just looked forward for a moment, eyes bugging slightly, as my mind reeled from it all. Some of the blood in my mouth trickled down my face. Briefly I wondered if it was from me biting my tongue or if maybe he broke something when he beat me.

Reaching up, he grabbed my face so hard that my cheeks were pinched together and my lip stuck out. I curled my lips into a snarl. He had since wiped his face of blood and spit, so it looked a little better this time. "Let's try this again, shall we?" He shoved my face away and I swung there for a moment, still trying to properly recover from the previous blows. The fact that my head was currently reminding me that I probably had a concussion didn't help too much. The adrenaline still pumped through my veins, making my muscles twitch in protest at not heeding my burning desire to cave their heads in. But of course I couldn't move. I just had to hang there, outstretched and fucking vulnerable as the wounds slowly started to grow in the pain that was radiating around me.

Slapping the metal pipe in his palm, he glared at me. Fresh blood trickled from his nose unnoticed. "Let's try this again." he repeated. "You have information that I need, and you know it. I was going to let you go when this was all over, now I'm not so sure. Now, you're probably bidding for a quick death, something which I have the power to grant...if you tell me what I need."

I looked at him. The mounting pain that radiated all around me had me thinking that perhaps there was a slight possibility that I could've handled that situation a little better. I shrugged my shoulders the best I could and questioned him, wincing at the movement. "I don't know what you're talking about, buddy."

He punched me solidly in the cheekbone. The blow caused my teeth to click together painfully. I blinked hard, willing the room to stop spinning so horribly. I swung on the chains again. "Wrong answer, freak. Tell me NOW."

I closed my eyes for a second. My whole body was hurting pretty badly, but I could tell that the adrenaline hadn't waned off yet so the worst was yet to come. When I opened my eyes again the man was looking at me, looking somewhat smug. The blood trickling down his nose had quadrupled. I wondered again how I got into this mess.

What was it that he wanted to know? Somehow, I don't think that he'd buy the whole 'I can't remember' thing, despite how true it was. I couldn't even remember my own fucking name! I would have to think of something else, but what!

I licked my lips, tasting the blood that trickled onto them and looked away. Never knew when someone could read a lie. "Well, what is it exactly that you, ah, wish to know?"

That made him deliver another punch to the opposite cheekbone. "Don't play dumb with me, green freak! Where is he! Where are the locations! Who all does he have!"

I gritted my teeth over the dull pain and the fresh vertigo that swam around me. Great. Here I'm here getting my ass kicked over someone else! I heard a slight sound and darted my eyes to the side. My naked friend's chair was over on its side. Either it was knocked over during the scuffle or he used the diversion to knock it over himself. Now, still playing unconscious, I could barely see his tied hands slowly sliding one of the sharp metal instruments that scattered the floor around him a little closer towards him. He was trying to escape.

Quickly, so as not to attract attention to him, I diverted my attention back to the man standing in front of me and said the first thing that popped in my head. "Alaska."

He cocked his head at me, confused. "Where in Alaska?"

All I knew was that he wasn't hitting me. Maybe he was buying it. "Yeah, yeah that's it. The man you're looking for is in city of Boulder, Alaska."

He turned to the man beside him and quickly began talking in that other language. I twitched nervously, wincing each time I moved. I had to think of something to get myself out of here, I was the only one I could count on. Just because the naked man was about to break out, didn't mean that he was going to let me out. We just insulted each other, plus he didn't seem too happy to see me. I dared a peek at him. He had the instrument firmly in his grasp now and was worrying it away at the rope. I looked him over. He didn't look like he could overpower much of anybody. Not how he was at this moment anyway. First he looked like he could use about ten pounds of beef or something. I twitched again.

Then I felt it. It moved again. The grinding. Elation welled within me and I had to fight to keep from showing it on my face. I didn't even dare look at it, I was so worried about attracting attention to it. It was the bolt fastening to my feet, the one chaining them to the stone. I twitched again. They both moved, I could feel the grinding of the bolt through the links in the chain. They wriggled much easier now, either way. I tested them again. My heart leapt as they moved partway out with about as much ease as I could've wished for. I must've loosened them up during my struggle with Zorro here. I stopped moving them. So far they showed no resistance and I was pretty sure that I could yank them out completely if I wanted to, but it wasn't the time. My feet would be the only things free, I had no idea how I was going to do anything swinging by my hands from a chain but I had a strange feeling that I could do quite a bit. In the meantime, I needed to spring it at the right moment, because in this situation the element of surprise is pretty much all that I got.

The ringleader finally turned back to me. He looked pissed. "Boulder, Alaska! Boulder is in the American state of Colorado! What kind of an idiot are you trying to play me for!"

Damn. I couldn't help saying it. "Are there different kinds?"

His lips pursed and his cheeks inflated as he reached his hand back for another punch. It was like he was moving in slow motion. At the same moment, I heard the soft sound of a rope snapping and knew that the naked man had freed his hands. Somehow I felt that the time was now right. I automatically kicked my legs at the same time. The bolts slid out of the floor easily...all until that last millimeter where it caught. They were a sudden rush of panic I heaved my legs at them even harder than before, so hard that I could feel my groin cramping. His fist approached me in a rush of speed. It was at that second that the bolts suddenly released their hold and my feet, having been held back with so much energy unchecked, suddenly sprang forward in a burst of power.

My feet met him solidly in the chest. He reeled back from the blow, his air getting knocked out of him. The only problem was the chain. Each chain, which was pretty long, was sent spinning by the heavier bolt steering it at the end. Basically both chains wrapped themselves around my captor, effectively tying my feet to his chest.

Yeah. The old turtle luck working true to fucking form.

Immediately the other two men sprang into action and rushed me. I did the only thing I could do: I kicked them. Of course the fact that I have a grown man, probably about 150+ pounds connected at the end shouldn't mean anything, right? Well, suffice to say it does. I didn't even reach the charging men before I swung back the way I came in a slow, lazy stroke. They struck me with I don't know what. I wasn't completely aware of the blows, I had that adrenaline rush thing going on again. One thing I did notice was that my hands were positively screaming in agony at the weight that they alone were being forced to bear. I guess that it was pretty much double the weight. No wonder it hurts so damn much!

I swung again, this time I nearly got horizontal but was going so slow because of the writhing man at my feet that the other two men easily stepped out of the way. The chain that I was hanging from creaked loudly in protest...before it snapped.

I was midair when the thing decided to give, of course, and fell the four feet to the stone floor landing flat on my shell hard enough to send a bolt of pain screeching up my spine. Zorro screamed angrily at my feet. Furiously I kicked my feet bicycle style, struggling to lose him as much as he was. My hands, still securely shackled together, was bright purple but still intact. Skin still on. Good a few links of chain remained connected.

Suddenly there was two shadows looming over me. Furiously I punched at the air with my joined hands, but they were woefully out of range. With the dude still at my feet I couldn't regain my feet just yet. My eyes couldn't help but widen as one of them furiously raised the knife that Zorro had been threatening me with.

He brought it down with frightening speed straight towards me.

Aw shit.

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

How do you like it? Any likes? Comments? Predictions? Did I raise enough questions for you? Let me know! I love to hear it! I noticed that I have quite a few people favoriting/following this story, don't be afraid to leave a review! If you have a negative critique, that's fine, I'm a big girl, I can handle it I swear! It's just that reviews are so invigorating they inspire more writing, you know? :)

Let me selfishly toot my own horn and say that if you like this you might like my others: a Don POV Light Purple Dark horror, a TMNT/zombie fic Death Rising Among us, and a Splinter POV oneshot series A Day in the Life of a Single Father family/comfort


	4. Escape

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter 4

Escape

Out of nowhere a piece of metal something flew through the air and clipped him in the temple. It knocked him to the ground as surely as a bowling ball would, the knife flying from his hands. The other fellow only had time to look to the side before a pair of dingy, dirty, cut up hands grasped his head and twisted cruelly. A crackle resounded in the air and the man fell to the ground, eyes still open in shock, lifeless.

My gaze swung up and saw the assailant. It was the naked man, the green eyed brown haired naked man. He escaped.

Finally I was free to sit up. Ruthlessly I shoved at the man wrapped in chains around my feet, but his furious struggle only served to further entangle himself. Another shadow passed over me and we both looked up to see the naked man (geesh I need to learn his name) standing over us...holding a fairly large ax.

My first thought was that he was just going to chop off my feet at the ankles, for some reason he seemed like the type to do that... Zorro apparently thought the same thing only directed towards him instead of me. Abruptly we changed our strategy and each tried to get away...in the opposite direction. As you can imagine we didn't get too far. I squeezed my eyes shut. He raised the ax and brought it down with a solid thud!

I opened my eyes to look to see what was chopped off...and was relieved to see the chain links severed and the ax head buried somewhat in the stone. Zorro looked rather relieved as well. Then he realized his predicament and scrambled to his feet. A pasty white elbow rammed into his face before he could get to his knees. I regained my senses and finished him off with a jabbing kick to the forehead. My heel connected solidly with his skull hard enough to make his eyes roll backwards. He crumpled to the floor.

When I looked up, the naked man was yanking the clothes off of one of the fallen men. Honestly, I was really expecting him to turn on me next, yeah he seemed to know me somehow, but it wasn't exactly a pleasant, uh, 'reunion.' With looking in my direction at all, he said in a grunting voice "Russia's cold this time of year. Unless you want to loose all your appendages, I suggest that you steal some of these guy's weather gear." I waited for a moment, half expecting him to say something else, but nothing. Shrugging my shoulders, I let the silence stand.

Looking around at the men, I realized that it wouldn't work. Not that I wasn't fat, but the dude I stole clothes from would _have_ to be fat in order to fit around my huge shell. Well, had to grab something. I snatched off a watch cap and some scarves. Quickly I wrapped them around my neck. Wasn't much, but at least it was something. I knew that none of their boots or gloves would fit me at all, no matter how big, even if it fit my foot they wouldn't accommodate my two large, very squarish toes. I was just shaped too funny. I glanced back at the man who just saved me. He was yanking up a pair of pants. They were from the skinniest man there, but they were still loose around his waist. I shook my head. I wonder how long he's been without a decent meal. Fortunately for him, despite the fact that he was scrawny the wiry muscle moving beneath his skin was very evident. Reaching for the door I yanked it open.

No barrage of snowflakes hit me. In fact, we were in what looked like an underground tunnel that was dimly lit by cheap light bulbs lining the ceiling. There was a door in the wall a few feet from me. I saw movement.

I'm not sure what came over me, but I charged it. Leaping in the air I struck the door lock solidly with my heel in a powerful kick. The thing collapsed against the blow. The moment I was inside I moved like a blur. The room was very small, there were three men in there plus me and bulky factory-style furniture so we were crowded. One of the men already had an automatic military rifle in his hands when I burst in, though his grip was relaxed and the barrel was held low. Startled at my appearance, he raised the weapon. To me the movement seemed unimaginably slow. I grabbed the muzzle and shoved the butt of the weapon against his shoulder...hard. Face grimacing in pain he was jolted back and loosened his grip on the weapon. I yanked it from his grasp and, flipping it in my hand, swung the butt in an uppercut to his nose. Face jerking back, an arc of blood flying in the air, he fell.

The next man came at me from behind with a drawn knife. I was hardly aware what I was doing, didn't even realize when I was aware of him, but before I knew it I delivered a powerful kick behind me. I felt my foot connect solidly with flesh and heard his muffled grunt of impact. Then, with perfect balance, I switched the weight on my foot and spun in a roundhouse kick. My heel struck his cheekbone. I saw the spittle fly and his eyes roll back. He hit the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

The third man was a rather portly man who had difficulty getting out of his chair. He gave up and chose instead to cower as I approached him. His uniform looked more like he was an administrator, not a soldier. I grinned as he quivered, looking up at me with wide eyes. "Boo." With a slight gasp, his eyes rolled back and he fainted.

I stood there for a moment, wondering exactly what it was that I just did. How did I know this fighting stuff? Who was I that was wanted by...Russia right?...was a mutant turtle and knew how to fight? It's like it all came from instinct, act and react.I didn't have much time to ponder before I saw something on the beat up metal shelving unit behind . My stuff! I still didn't know why it was mine, who gave it to me, where I learned to use it, or any of that crap but I knew that it was mine and that was enough for me at the moment. Setting down the rifle for a second I tied the belt back on, slipped the red bandana back over my eyes and slipped the sai back in thier place.

_Click!_

I whipped around, sai already in my hands. It was the man, the one who saved me and cursed me out at the same time. He held the rifle in one hand, hefting it's weight with practiced ease. The muzzle was pointed scant inches from my face. He looked at me dead in the eye, face impassive and emotionless. Licking my lips, I didn't move. I didn't see what I could do, in this situation, to save myself. Maybe I was wrong about him helping me, maybe he told me to go get clothes just to put me in a situation where he could finish me off. Anger rose inside me sharply and I tensed my muscles, ready to act if need be, yet was forced to wait to see what he'd do. Hands flexing into fists I glared back at him, almost daring him to do it.

He was dressed in the military winter wear, but his green eyes still pierced into mine. I was torn. I wanted to attack him so bad, yet...Obviously he knew who I was, or at least he knew more about me than I did. But what choice did I have? I tightened my hold on my weapons and came ready...

With practiced ease, he flipped the rifle away from my face and slung it over his shoulder by the strap. Boldly he turned his back on me, as if not caring if I attacked him. As he turned to search the pockets of the first fallen man, he muttered "Never leave a weapon lying around like that you idiot. Never know who will kill you with it."

I bristled at the lecture. My jaw tightened. Before I knew what I was thinking, I was growling right back at him. "If that's a threat, buddy, I'd be happy to carry it out on ya."

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, face still emotionless. "Calm down twinkle toes. Here, try this on. Don't want you getting frostbite on us." He shoved a pile of camouflage clothing at me. I looked at the width. "Yes, they belonged to porky over here." he muttered, jerking his head over towards the fat man.

As much as my skin rankled at sharing clothes with him, I yanked it on. It took longer than I thought, mostly because of the layers. The guy was wearing a thick thermal shirt, though I almost gagged at the stench of fat-man-sweat. Next came a type of sweater that seemed to be made of a type of wool, though I wasn't sure. Then was the blouse/jacket. It had a detachable soft, thick inner lining though the outside was obviously designed to be at least semi-waterproof as well as an effective windbreaker. It was a tight fit, but at least it fit. I thrust my arms into the sleeves, already I noticed how much warmer it was. This winter gear really did help. "Don't see how a soldier could get that fat." I muttered. I slipped my sai out of under the sweater so I could put on the woolen undercoat. Then was the waterproof topcoat.

"He's no soldier, he's a civie."

I gave him an odd look. He rolled his eyes. "A civilian."

It was then that I noticed that he already had a large pack stuffed with I don't know what. He just zipped it up and tossed it at my feet along with another rifle as he snatched up another one and started grabbing stuff off the shelves and from the drawers. He pulled out all the ammunition and other weapons/paraphanelia that he could get his hands on, snatched up blankets, paper, he was cleaning the place out. "You'll still need some boots."

I ground my teeth, irritated. "My feet aren't shaped like yours, shithead."

He looked at me with a slightly amused look and brought out a pair of boots from behind him. They were big, but they still wouldn't fit, of course. Then he brought down one of the knives and chopped off the tops of the toes, leaving the soles. Searching through his bag, he pulled out a couple of pairs of woolen socks and tossed these to me. "Try those on for size, fuckface."

I looked at them. Now that the issue with the toes was gone, er, cut off, they would probably fit. Wasn't perfect but was better than nothing. "Might as well, dipwad." I looked up at him. "Who are you?" He looked at me oddly, then looked back towards the bag. I waited, I could tell that he was thinking on something. Might as well give him the time.

As I shoved my feet through the layers of thick winter socks (I put on two pairs) and laced up the boots (yes they did fit, though my toes hanged off the sides and the tip some). Grabbing a roll of duct tape I started wrapping layers around the toe, attempting some form of waterproofing. Last thing I wanted was snow in my boots.

A sound echoed down the tunnel. Both of us froze.

I hurriedly finished lacing them and pulled my sai out of my coat pockets after slinging the pack over my shoulder. He did the same and prepped his rifle (he had three more bristling from his pack). With superb stealth he crept out the door. Not to be shown up I was right behind him.

The passageway was cold and bleak, it got colder as we approached the door at the end. The man tried the handle gently, so it wouldn't rattle, but it was locked. Something automatically told me that I knew what to do with this. Slinging the rifle over my shoulder and shoving him out of the way I put the tip of my sai into the key hole. I probed with the point until I felt a familiar latch attached to a spring. Pushing I popped it. Stepping away I gestured for him to continue. He raised his eyebrows at my offering him to lead. I just grinned. Call me heartless, but I figured that if a barrage of bullets was about to hit us, it'd be better if he was hit first.

He put his gloved hand on the door handle and slowly turned it.

The moment the door swung open the only thing we were hit with was a barrage of killer razor sharp snowflakes. Scrunching up my face, I pulled the stocking cap lower and the scarf higher. We stepped out and it was then that we were hit. A bullet pinged off the rock face to the side of my companion's head. With practiced ease he dropped to the ground as though he'd been hit (and for a second there I thought he was) and yanked me down with him. He fired, not particularly aiming at anything but pehaps just as a deterrant. Then he scuttles along with surprising speed, keeping his but inches from the ground but without using his hands in the slightest, shoving himself forward by his elbows. I admit that I didn't have that ability, especially encumbered by these friggin clothes, but I followed him. At least he acted like he knew where he was going, not like I knew where the fuck we were in the first place.

Something hit me from the side and knocked me over. I wrestled blindly with it, jabbing my sai into what appeared to be nothingness. The snow blocked all my vision. I must've hit something because I felt something warm splash on my hand and a pained grunt. I could barely make out the dark figure sliding off my blade. My guide was tugging at me again so I quickly left whoever it was that attacked me in the snow to bleed to death.

Then we ran into something hard, unmoving. I felt along with my hands (which were nearly numb by now, I seriously needed some gloves) and recognized it as a bumper. Immediately I knew what was going on and didn't have to be guided as me and the man split up, him going to drivers side and I to passenger. We were going to steal this baby. I followed along the body of the vehicle, feeling the freezing metal until I finally came to the truck's door. Trying to take a breath through the stinging snowflakes pelting my face, I reached for the handle and yanked it open, grabbing the first warm body that I came into contact with. Forcefully pulling the person out they thrashed in shock of both my attack and the sudden barrage of snow. I delivered a few quick punches to the man's face until I felt him go limp. Unceremoniously dropping him on the snow covered ground, I felt along inside.

I could see a lot better inside the truck. The temperature wasn't actually any warmer but it felt that way because it was at least shielding me from the blinding horizontal wind. I clambered onto the filthy seat just in time to see my 'friend' yank the driver out. He chose to club the man with his rifle rather than punch. It reminded me too much of the gun butt to the head that I took. I winced. Ouch.

He clambered in beside me and slammed the door. Immediately he jabbed his finger to the small window at the back. "See what's back there." then he reached for the keys. I rankled again, wondering how he had the balls to just think that he could order me around like that. But, again, I needed the information and he seemed to be the only one who was not trying to kill me, so I swallowed my protest for the moment. I got to my knees and peered through the dusty window, but saw nothing. Digging at it with my fingers I wrenched it open. It was big enough for me to stick my head through. I looked around. Knowing my luck, I was half expecting to find it full of soldiers in which case I probably would've been shot or decapitated and then my troubles would be over. Instead, it was full of boxes. They were all labeled. Fortunately, they were stacked in a way that I could tell that no one was hiding behind them or something.

I pulled myself back onto the seat just as he wrenched it in drive. I could hear rifle fire in the wind but it was quickly swallowed up by the snow. We must be caught in a blizzard. I looked at the mirrors to see if we were being pursued but all that I could see was a wall of white. My 'friend' shoved my arm. I glared at him. "What was back there?" he barked.

He was really starting to piss me off, but again I swallowed it when I realized that some weak heat was coming from a pipe coming from the floor, presumably the heater. "Boxes." I snapped grumpily.

A muscle on his jaw jumped. "Were they labeled?" He asked through gritted teeth.

I didn't bother to look at him. "Sure were."

"So...what were they?"

"Don't know."

He growled in frustration. "Well why the hell not!"

I snarled right back at him. "Because I can't read fucking Russian!"

He paused for a second, blinked a few times and relaxed. "Oh." I snorted. Punk assed bitch.

I nervously looked at the mirror again even though I knew I couldn't see anything. "Are they coming after us?"

"Probably."

"How do you know?"

He turned to me and I saw the smile even though his bundles of scarf. "Because you're too important to let go." He turned back to the windshield, somehow knowing how to operate the vehicle in blinding conditions. "But don't worry, I won't let them get ya. Besides they won't drive like I am so we have an advantage."

Questions buzzed in my head. I was too important? But we had something more immediate. "Why won't they follow us?"

"They're too smart to do something so stupid and suicidal." He smiled as he pressed hard on the accelerator.

Suddenly I had a very odd feeling about everything...well not that it didn't feel odd before but it felt kinda worse now. I was too important? What the hell! And the dude at the wheel is driving suicidally through a blizzard? Don't that make me feel cozy. For a brief second I wondered if perhaps it would be more beneficial to simply jump out the door. Obviously this man wanted me as much as the soldiers did, even though I still didn't know why. But I knew it would be stupid to, ah, escape. I could tell that this man knew a lot more about surviving in these types of situations than I did. I didn't know what the hell to do in a blizzard or wilderness stuff. And even though he was driving suicidally, he was obviously skilled at it if we weren't dead yet or careening down some lost slope. He wasn't driving that bad at all, just extremely bumpy.

Or maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better.

He yanked his scarf down a bit and a slightly manic smile spread on his face. I didn't like it."I recognize this area...HOLD ON!" He slammed his foot on the gas. I was shoved in the seat behind me. I felt around me. No seat belts! DAMN! I gripped the seat like my life depended on it...which it probably did. The truck lurched forward with the unexpected increase in acceleration and the engine whined loudly as it built up speed. Suddenly I heard the wheels screech and the rear of the truck started swerving from side to side. We were fishtailing. Then we hit some sort of snow bank that sent us airborne for a split second before we reconnected with the surface and the truck started to simply glide slightly to the side. Now we were fucking hydroplaning! The guy let off the gas and slowly pumped the break but the hydroplaning continued as the heavy diesel truck glided effortlessly on a thin, delicate sheen of ice. We were gaining speed. He looked out his window and his eyes widened. Gripping the headrest behind me he gritted his teeth. "We're going to flip!" He yelled and jerked harshly at the steering wheel as we struck something low on the side. For a few precarious seconds, the truck was balanced on two wheels, the other two spinning uselessly in the air. Then finally gravity took over the truck hit the side and we were sliding downhill. It jostled and jerked. My grip on the seat was lost and I bounced against the ceiling before we hit something else and my skull collided with the windshield.

For the second time today everything went black.

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllll

A/N: I know, you guys are just loving me right now aren't ya? Well, sorry to say the next chapter won't have as much action as the last two except for some scuffling between Raph and his new friend. But you will get some answers. (Note: SOME, not all! Teeheehee!) Please leave your review along with any predictions, thoughts, ideas, or whatever the hell you want. Alright? Alright!


	5. Questions and Answers

I don't own the TMNT

Special thanks to TmntRr for lighting my butt on fire for this thing.

I know this one is short but I had to struggle to crank this one out, and it seemed like an alright place to cut off. A lot of dialogue in this one, which as you know isn't really my style (probably one of the reasons I struggled on it) but it was kind of needed to explain some things.

Chapter 5

Answers and Questions

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllll

I woke up in a cave. A damn cave.

And my head fuckin hurts.

Grimacing I rubbed my head. What is it with all these stupid blows to the head? If I was lucky one of them would knock my memories back into place but I didn't suspect that would happen any time soon. After all this isn't a cartoon.

Looking around I saw a healthy fire already built in the center of the cave. The guy was squatting by it, munching on something in a can. Abruptly he looked up at me. "About damn time you woke up, greenie. Don't worry, they're looking for us but they already came and went. I scouted for a little while you were napping. They have no clue." Looking at me he whistled. "I swear, do you _like_ getting smacked in the head?"

I must look worse for wear. I growled. "You were the one driving, dumbass!" Grimacing, I looked around. The mouth of the cave was small, and a wall of white snow blew in front of it, blocking the view. Luckily the wind was blowing away from the mouth so very little snow actually blew in, though I could see a small trail of snow across the floor before it got to me in melted little puddles. Obviously where he dragged me in. Once again I was grateful for the cumbersome clothes I wore. "Where's the truck? Why the hell are you so fuckin crazy?"

He shrugged. "I'm fine. You are obviously the one with the problem. Truck got into an accident. Silly thing." Before I had a chance to retort he rolled a can in my direction. "Here, greenie, God knows the last time you ate something."

Now that I thought about it, I _was_ pretty hungry. Ignoring my aching head and rising temper for a moment, I picked it up. Couldn't see what it was, there were no pictures and the label was in Russian, so hopefully it wasn't anything too…exotic. But still. I snarled. "Stop calling me fucking greenie."

He looked at me pointedly. "Alright, shellhead, what _is _your name?"

Shit. Good question. Why couldn't I remember? The guy laughed at the blank expression on my face. I glared at him. "What's your name?" I asked, deliberately avoiding the question.

That put him off a little. He scratched his chin and avoided looking at me. "You can call me Duke."

I snorted before laughing out loud. "Duke? Are you fuckin kidding me? Like yippie kie yay mother fucker? Right? Ride along little doggie? Giddy-up? Oooh oooh! I know! Broke Back Mountain."

His face immediately purpled and he surged to his feet. "How DARE you question the authenticity of the great John Wayne! He was an American hero!"

It was too much. I laughed out loud, only causing him to get more angry.

He grimaced. "A lot of big talk coming from a green booger blob like you!"

I snarled. "Turtle. TURTLE! Geesh! How stupid can you be?"

"I could never meet your level, that's for sure."

We spent the next few moments glaring daggers at each other over the fire. Finally, then, our gazes broke and he turned again to his can of food. Stomach growling, I looked at mine. Grabbing the can opener, I tried to apply it to the lip but it wouldn't stick. For such a simple device, it sure wasn't easy to use. Stomach growling louder, I tried again. It popped off once more.

"So where are they?"

I looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

He made a face. "Don't play stupid with me. Where are the discs?"

I was getting angry. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about."

Suddenly his face fell and his skin paled a little. "You know, the discs, from the agent Bishop, the ones everyone's looking for?" He was shaking slightly.

Eyeing him, I shifted. Well, at least he won't attack me like Zorro did…or if he does I can fight back. "Look, I didn't tell that guy anything not out of nobility or anything…it's because I can't remember anything."

His mouth gaped open. "WHAT? You can't be serious!"

I shrugged. "Why do you think I didn't tell you my name? It's because I can't remember it! The last thing I remember is waking up in the snow next to a plane crash."

He was completely silent for a moment, only sitting there, quivering slightly. Then suddenly he leapt to his feet and punched the wall. "FUCK!" He then proceeded to kick and punch the gear that he brought inside, sending a metal pot clattering down the length of the cave and other objects scattering about, screaming curses the entire time.

Oddly I just sat and watched his staying oddly quiet, letting him vent. After all, this guy, jerk that he was, was my key. He knew more about what was going on than I was, if anything I've only gotten here in the first place because of him loathe as I was to admit it. So I gave him the space. Not like we were getting chased right now, so we had time.

I worked at the can a little more, only to have it mess up again. I glared at the tiny metal can opener for a moment, briefly considering pitching the thing across the cave. Then to keep from getting too pissed about it, I put it down for a moment. He had calmed down by now, and was looking off into space with a dumbfounded expression. I raised my eyeridges. "Are you alright now?"

He nodded, then sighed. "It's just that you…you were the key to everything. You knew it all and now…" He raised his hands in a placating gesture, letting them fall.

Alright. Enough. Looking at him, I made a face. "You need to start talkin', Duke."

He picked his head up. "Hm?"

I glared at him. "Don't play dumb. You know things. You recognized me in the torture chamber, you're helping me for a reason, and it isn't for my shining personality. I have no clue what's going on. So start talking. Why are the Russians after me? How do you know me?"

He blinked. "Oh, yeah." Shifting, obviously getting comfortable, he stared at the ceiling, mind working. "Well, it all starts with a guy named Bishop. Does that name ring any bells?"

Did it? It sounded familiar…but I couldn't connect a name with the face. I shrugged.

His frustration was obvious. "Ok. First, yes you're in Russia, but those people who got you weren't Russian. They were from Palestine, along with a couple of people from some other countries. Everyone, well, almost everyone, is after you right now."

My mouth gaped open. "What? Why? What did I do, piss on every flag or something?"

He laughed out loud. "No, nothing that simple. You, though, have information about Bishop, and EVERYONE wants Bishop."

That guy again. I grunted. "Why? What do I have to do with this guy?"

He shoveled more food in his mouth before continuing. "You have information on him. He used to be a government agent in America, but has gone bad in a big way. He was conducting illegal experiments, very bad ones, he was actually snatching people and experimenting on them. As soon as his own country found out, they went after him big time He branched out to foreign countries. Including some high official in Palestine."

Geesh, this was making my head hurt. "Why am I in Russia?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Really, I'm not sure. I think that it has to have something to do with Bishop, you've been pretty close on his tail lately, so you probably chased him here."

"How did you find out I was here?"

He grinned at me. "I have been able to tap nearly every line there is. People don't really know that I exist, so on top of my own technical skills that helps. I was able to track you like the others, but honestly this is the first time I actually caught up with you." He wagged his eyebrows. "Good thing I did, right? Otherwise you would be deader than a doornail, my friend!"

"What do you mean you don't exist? How do you know about me and Bishop?"

He stilled. "I'm after you because I died."

I grimaced. "What?"

"And Bishop, we have a history, you could say. You do, too. A long history. Especially with the others. That's why you're after him, too, of course. That and the others."

"What? Others? What are you talking about?" My head was already swimming, but for some reason my brain really picked up on the mention of 'others.'

He grabbed the can from my hands and with a few twists of the wrist popped the can open. Handing it back, he gestured towards me. "You know, the others. The others like you. The ones that Agent Bishop captured."

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

How do you like it? Any likes? Comments? Predictions? Did I raise enough questions for you? Let me know! I love to hear it!

Let me selfishly toot my own horn and say that if you like this you might like my others: a Don POV Light Purple Dark horror, and a Splinter POV oneshot series A Day in the Life of a Single Father family/comfort


	6. Duke Talks Some More

on't own the TMNT

A/N: Some things happened, and I'm upset. When I'm upset, I write, makes me feel better, better than any therapy. I hope you like this. Longer than my normal chapters. Lots of dialogue still, which isn't quite my style but some explanations still needed to be made so just bear with me.

Chapter 6

Duke Talks Some More

I sat there for a moment, trying to absorb in the information. For some reason, ever since I woke up at the plane crash, I never stopped to think if I was the only one of my kind or if there were others. I pretty much stopped thinking on the subject after I deduced that I was different from the human population, so to speak. I racked my brain for answers, for any memories that would help me in this. I could come up with nothing but feelings. Feelings of caring, annoyance, anger, laughter, comraderie and love. It all seemed so confusing. They were close, I knew that much. My family?

Frustrated, I growled to myself. Who were these other turtles? Why the HELL can't I remember them! Obviously they're important to me at least in some regard, or Duke wouldn't have mentioned it as an issue. Wait, them? More than one...I was sure of it. Damnit!

"How many?"

"Huh?" Duke looked up.

"How many turtle mutants were caught? More than one, right?"

Rocking back on his heels, he scratched his chin. "Hm. Yeah, I think so. In fact, I think that two were caught. Maybe three, I know that there was a third involved somehow, but not sure if it was caught too. Heck, for all I know, that third could've been you."

My eyeridges furrowed, my brain concentrating hard as I tried not to be too pissed at the lack of definitive information. Gritting my teeth, I looked at him. Somehow, I felt that there must be another type of mutant involved. "Only turtles, nothing else?"

He looked at me and quirked an eyebrow before laughing out loud. "What the hell do you mean something else? What else could there be? It's hard enough to believe that there are more than one of you greenies running around much less mutant puppies or something else." He looked at me quizzically. "What the hell made you ask that?"

"Hm." I grunted. For a moment I stared off into space. What made me ask that question? Other mutants? And how was I so sure that there was more than one turtle? Or a mutant of another species? It was a haunch, I think. And something in my gut told me to follow that haunch. I sighed and harrumfed. Not like knowing something like that would make any difference right now anyway. I glanced back at Duke. He was silent, scooping the last of some sort of sauce from a can. He was waiting for me to think it over, I realized. I smiled. "Alright needle nose, what was it that made me the world's most wanted turtle? The fact that there was a free mutant running around?"

"Um?" He started and swallowed down the last bit of sauce. "Oh, no. Not really. Actually most of the government ops don't really give two shits about you, really, in the terms of what you are anyway. They want you because of what you know." He laughed out loud, though the sound seemed a bit sharp. "If only they knew."

I cocked my head at him and swallowed down another mystery weenie. Tasted kinda like a babycarrot, rolled in pancake syrup. The taste still eluded me. "What the hell could I know that would make them want me?"

He rubbed his face roughly with his hand, as if he was trying to rub off his frustrated expression. Not looking at me, he sighed and answered. "First of all, you had scuffles with this Bishop before. You pretty much knew almost all the illegal stuff that he was doing before he was caught. You were even there when he kidnapped the president."

I gagged, almost choking on the pancake syrup carrot. "He did what?"

The thought didn't seem to trouble him too much. He shrugged. "Don't know the details. Has something to do with flying saucers or some shit like that. Anywho, the Bishop guy fled America because any trial would've ended in his death pretty much. If not by the government, than by the families of the people he tortured. But there's one thing about what he was doing, with mutants and genetics and stuff, other countries were interested. They contacted him and he ended up setting like bases of some sorts in various countries. Of course, even with the human subjects he had with that 'something special' that I told you about, there was still a lot of failures and icky deaths. He needed a constant supply of these people. He didn't give a damn who he took in America, why should he care now that he was out of America? In the more developed countries he targeted military and the same sorts because they kept excellent medical records that were easily hacked. The countries who didn't give a hoot who was missing as long as it wasn't a person of status helped too. Then he found human specimens that he just couldn't resist, no matter how big of a no-no it was to grab them. One of these was the son of a very powerful religious leader in Palestine, hence those goons after you. Rich daddy hired them."

Damn. No wonder they were so pissed. I whistled. "Not a very bright guy, is he?"

He shook his head. "No, actually he is pretty damn smart. No one has had contact with him directly, so he's very sneaky. No one can ever get solid proof of who he's taken, he does pretty technical stuff and he's very clean about the way he does things."

"So basically no one can find the crazy bastard."

"Right. Well, understandably, people, governments, militaries, hell, entire countries want this guy's head on a platter decorated with his innards for all the people he's taken. Surprisingly, even with our goodie-two-shoe attitude, the US was the first on the list. We don't really appreciate him harvesting our military like that. Especially the non-government people. Other countries don't appreciate it either, wo say the least. Then there are the cases like I mentioned where he either takes an important figure or the relative of one. Not only that, but some countries believe that rival countries are the culprits, so now there's political tension and threat of war. A lot of it is aimed at the US, some are starting to hint that we sent this guy out on purpose to weaken their governments or something. In any case, there are a lot of hot heads out there that would love to be part of World War III, so this thing is really starting to get big."

This was making my head hurt. This wasn't just shaping to be an international incident, but a global one. "That still doesn't explain why they want me."

He waved me off. "I'm getting to that. Apparently these turtle mutants that he took were kinda important to you because you started to hunt the guy down with a vengence. He had done something bad with someone you knew, and you and your group were beyond pissed. The US government was already aware of your presence in New York for at least a short while because some of Bishop's files and records managed to be retrieved or copied before they were shuffled away or destroyed when Bishop fled the country. Bishop had a big file on you guys, apparently you guys had quite a history. At first they were going to just swipe you up because of what you were mainly, but then they saw what you were doing. Working by yourself, you had already gotten further than the top experts working on finding this guy, you knew him better or something. Not to mention that technically you were beyond the law. Plus from what I heard you were one of the most relentless, crazy SOB's that they ever saw. After the presidential kidnapping, he got the other mutants somehow, then got ready to get out of dodge, but apparently that didn't matter to you. You were on a mission, you really wanted to find him and the other turtles.

"In any case, you managed to find him before they did. Not only that, but you realized the surveilance and managed to elude the government teams before you got to the guy. You caught him right before he left the country. All his stuff and equipment was already moved out but for some reason he was one of the last to leave. Well, the government teams managed to track you down somehow and when they found you, you and Bishop were basically killing each other. I hate the government. So of course when they got involved everything got screwed up. There was gunfire, an explosion, and Bishop got away. Then they tried to finally capture you, you slaughtered half of them getting out but you got out alright."

I opened my mouth but he held up a hand, an odd smile on his face. "But here's the kicker, you weren't empty handed. Not sure how you got it, whether you found it with Bishop or found out where it was through him, but you found the discs. The million dollar fuckin' discs. The discs that has lists of everyone taken, and what was done to them. The location of all the secret bases overseas. The exact location of Bishop's hideouts. Where each of the 'experiments' was, what was done to them and their current condition. Videos. Tapes. Records. So not only did you have the information of tracking down the bastard, but you had undeniable proof of what was done and how and when it was done. They were all copies, and apparently they were supposed to be destroyed. Either you got it before that happened or it was overlooked somehow.

"Don't ask me how, but the government found out. Understandably they now began to hunt you in earnest. And no matter what anyone says, there are spies everywhere. News leaked out. Different countries learned of this. They had already tried to catch Bishop himself and failed repeatedly. Surely it must be easier to catch a mutant freak, right? And if they find you, not only can they regain their citizens, soldiers, leaders and comrades, but they will also obtain information to catch the crazy SOB who orchestrated all of it. Plus definitive proof of the countries who are harboring him by allowing him to have bases. Well, that's how it goes from there. And believe it or not, but that's the quick and skinny of it all."

Taking a breath, he sat back and promptly shut up, obviously tired of talking for such a long time. I sat there, silently for a moment. I couldn't talk even if I wanted to. It was all too much. Absorbing the information. So I was right that the mutant turtles were important to me, why else would I hunt down Bishop like that? It might also explain why I as on the plane. I was pretty sure that I was on the plane now and survived the crash. Maybe I found out where this Bishop guy was, or I was hunting down the other mutants, I don't know. It has to be something related, though. Something like that. Damnit! Some more context would be so fuckin great right now! If only I could just remember! It was so fucking frustrating that I actually felt sick to my stomach.

It was about then that I noticed Duke staring intently at me. I mean, really staring. Damn human. I quirked an eyeridge. "What?" I snapped.

"So...rememer anything?"

He looked so damned hopeful I had to let out a laugh. I cocked a half grin. "Nope. Not a damn thing. Which makes me pretty screwed, huh?"

He pounded his fist against his head. "Damn! I was hoping that that would jar something loose!" He turned to me with an earnest, yet pissed off look on his face. Jabbing a finger at me, he stomped his foot. "Don't you realize that you alone hold the key to saving millions of lives, bringing a criminal to justice, and possibly preventing countless wars! What. Is. WRONG with you!" He glared at me, quivering slightly with rage.

I glared right back at him, slapping away his stupid finger. "It's not like I have a fucking choice in the matter, asswipe! I can't even remember my own damn name! Ya think that I enjoy that!"

He got to his feet, standing stiffly. "Who knows, maybe you do! And if you even have a name, let me take a guess at it...Crazy Mutant Freak! Green Booger Goblin! Screw it, it's Fucking Bastard!"

I raged to my feet as well. "Alright cowboy, what do you want on your friggin tombstone! Cause' I'm about to arrange you to get one shitface! Like Duke is any better! Crazy old cowboy brokeback mountain wannabe!"

He took a step towards me, brandishing a fist. Cocking a grin despite my rage, I did the same, feeling my muscles quiver with anticipation. I'd been sitting for too long anyway.

Duke swung the first blow. I saw the punch coming a mile away. I dodged my head to the side and grabbed his fist with both hands. Using his own momentum and my own strength I hurled him over my shoulder. He sailed through the air and landed flat on his back. Kicking with his legs he flipped on his feet immediately only to be met by my foot. I kicked him squarely in the sternum. He was knocked back from the blow with a grunt, but relatively unfazed. Snatching my foot by the ankle, he twisted harshly.

Giving a strangled cry, I went with the motion slightly, trying to alleviate the pain. He twisted some more and I fell to my hands. At the same time I kicked out with my other foot, catching him in the crotch with my heel. His face immediately twisted in pain and he doubled over with a groan, instinctively releasing my foot. I jerked my swollen ankle back to me and attempted to do a double kick from that position, striking at him with both heels. Instead he ducked so flat that he was hugging the dirt and I completely missed. Furiously, I used gravity and my muscles to bring my knees down on his skinny shoulders, but not before he nailed my own crotch, right at the base of my tail, with a balled up fist.

Little white stars danced in my vision as pain laced through me and I dropped to the ground loosely with a high pitched squeal. I laid there for a moment, breathing deeply and holding my wounded buddy. Duke laid a few feet from me doing the same. Damn it hurt like friggin hell! He kicked weakly in my direction and I did the same but we were barely too far away. So we laid there for several long moments, trying to mask our own squeaky whispers as we felt our jewels pulsate in protest beneath our fingers.

He moved first, albeit slowly, and favoring his groin. I saw him coming and moved out of the way equally as slowly, but he managed to grab a hold of my bandana tails. He jerked harshly. The fabric pushed against the soft flesh in my eye sockets. A wave of pain went through my head and I saw stars once again. Moving over my shell, he jerked at it again. Scrunching my eyes shut, I growled and heaved myself up and managed to crush him between the wall and my shell.

He hit the ground just as I tried to regain my vision. My eyes felt like they've been yanked out and put back in again! He recovered but didn't move. Panting slightly, I just rolled to a sitting position and looked at him, still squinting. I sure felt weak. Wonder when the last time that I ate was? Damn, that hurt so fuckin bad!

We laid there, several feet away from each other, panting slightly, not saying a word for several moments.

Looking at me, he cocked a slight grin. I blew hot air through my nostrils and glared at him, threatening to get up again. He waved his hand for me to sit back down, obviously tired out himself. I glared at him and massaged my eye sockets. He let out a single laugh. "Well, ya can't really blame me. Those bandana tails were just kind of staring me in the face." He winced as he shifted his position, obviously favoring the position. He looked at me. "Why do you wear those things anyway?"

The question struck me off track. I thought about it. "Well, I don't really know. It must be important to me in some way, otherwise I guess that I wouldn't be wearing them." I shifted down slightly, trying to put my weight more on my shell and relaxed my legs slowly. "Why?"

Rubbing the back of his head gingerly, he looked at me. "A name, that's why. Until we know what it is, we gotta call you something, unless you want me to call you greenie from now on." I glared at him. He cocked a grin again. "Didn't think so. How 'bout Red?"

It was better than all the things he's been calling me since I met him, that's for friggin sure. "Sounds alright. Red. Hey Duke, why don't you tell me your real name?"

He just stared off into the flames with a hard look on his face and didn't answer. My forehead ticked. Friggin' dumbass. "Fine." I snapped. "Whatever. Why don't you just tell me why the hell you joined the 'lets hunt the turtle' club? What did this Bishop guy do to you, or did you get hired or something? You work for the government?"

He shook his head. "No, nobody paid me. And I fuckin' hate the government. I was looking for you because I died."

I cocked my head at him, perplexed. "What the hell does that mean, cowboy?"

Reaching over he picked up the can I was eating from. Looking at it, he sniffed it and made a face. "Ugh. Why the hell you eating this crap?"

I looked at them. "I like to think that they're a weird form of Russian weenies. Why, what are they?"

Smiling, he shook his head. "Not really sure you'd like to know that. In any case, let's get down to business." I looked at him, raising my eyeridges. "You don't remember where Bishop is or the information is obviously, right?" Still looking perplexed, I nodded. "Alright, and so basically we both want you to remember this. Besides you have those other mutants to find. And since I have my own reasons as well, I could help you."

"Really?" I breathed and leaned back. My tail still hurt. I knew his, uh, 'tail' must hurt too. "This is a pretty funny conversation to have after we just kicked each other's nuts out."

He laughed. "Yeah. Whatever. Don't get fresh, you're not my type. If you don't object, I will help you out. Don't get me wrong, I don't like you or nuthin'. You're still an ugly mutant freak."

"You don't look so purty yourself, ya shitfaced cowboy."

"But I figured it would be beneficial to both of us."

"Yeah, I suppose it would. Personally, even if those mutants that he has don't turn out to be what I think they are, I still want to seriously rip his ass apart for all the hell that he's put me through."

He laughed. "Whatever. You don't even remember most the crap he's put you through, Red."

I snickered. "Exactly. Imagination can be a very powerful tool when you want it to be, and I plan on using every bit of mine when it comes to hanging him on the wall."

A/N: So what do you think? Please leave a review, a rambler if possible or just short and sweet so at least I know you're interested.


End file.
